


Possession Is Nine-Tenths

by sambethe



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sambethe/pseuds/sambethe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She left and he adjusted. Now Emma keeps poking at the edges of his life and Killian doesn’t know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally started from the prompt quoted below and morphed from there. Was also meant to be a one-shot with no more than 2000 words, that also morphed. Will be posting parts 2 & 3 over the next week - working on editing the former and writing the last of the scenes from latter.
> 
> _“yes, i know this is your sweatshirt and that we broke up five months ago but it’s really comfy okay. i totally don’t wear it because like it still smells like you or is the only thing that even remotely feels like home since i moved out. pfft. absolutely not.”_

9:23.

Killian stared at the display on his phone as he perched against a lamppost at the foot of the River Street Bridge. He flexed his fingers in an attempt to stop himself from firing off an angry text. Eight minutes was hardly the latest Liam’s been for one of their Saturday morning runs. Settling on scrolling through Instagram instead, his eye caught on a familiar expanse of grey cotton. He paused and swiped back upwards to poke at the photo. It was of David laying on a familiar black and white tweed couch, his head pillowed in a woman’s lap – a woman who was wearing Killian’s sweatshirt.

Deep grey and ridiculously soft, it had gotten him through his last year at university. It was with him through the three years of law school and the move to Boston. The frayed edges of the left sleeve were a reminder of an absent-minded tic and too many late night study sessions. He knew on the back right towards the hem was a small, ragged hole, the result of snagging an errant nail when he moved into his current flat. The cut neckline, though, was a later addition, coming sometime after it was co-opted by the current wearer. At the time, he’d tried to come off as offended by what he’d termed ‘the assault,’ but the first glimpse of her collarbone as the sweatshirt draped off her shoulder had him seeing the merits of the alteration.

While the photo was framed to not include Emma’s face, he’d know her and that sweatshirt anywhere. Also, that couch - just the right side of firm with deep cushions that invite entire weekends to be lost in its confines. God, he missed that couch. Not to mention the photo’s caption - _Little sisters make the best pillows_ \- was a dead giveaway.

He tried not to chafe at the fact David neglected mentioning he was going to New York when he asked him to check on and feed his cat for a few days. Killian assumed it was for another work conference. Instead, he focused on how his thumb wavered as it hovered over the like button.   
Thinking better of it, Killian closed the app and moved to turn on his running playlist before pocketing the phone in its arm band.

Turning his attention back to his surroundings, he caught sight of Liam making his way down the street. Hoping to distract himself from reading any meaning into the fact Emma was wearing his shirt, Killian pushed himself from the lamppost and took off down the river path. He’d let Liam’s punishment be spending the first half their run trying to catch up.

*

_He placed a hand between her shoulder blades and pressed a knee between her legs. Complying with his silent request, Emma bent over and rested her elbows against the back of the couch. Killian curled a hand around her hip and pressed himself against her ass, biting back a groan at her breathy exhale. The dinner he brought sat cooling next to her front door, all plans forgotten when he let himself in and found her in the middle of her small living room swaying along to_ Mystify _in her deep blue sleep shorts and a camisole that bared more than it covered. He had a flash of a thought to hope Buttercup wouldn’t rifle through it but that was lost when Emma reached back to twist her fingers in his hair and pulled._

_Moving the hand on her hip up to curve along her breast, his fingers dipped beneath the lace edging to trace around the already hardened nipple. With his free hand, he opened the fly of his jeans and pushed them down enough to free himself. Leaning back in, he ran the tip of his nose along her neck and breathed out, relishing the spread of gooseflesh in his wake and the twitch of her hand in his hair. He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and tugged before releasing it again and whispering, “Sorry to interrupt the dance party, Nolan.”_

_Emma laughed as he pushed down her shorts. “No, you’re n–”_

_The last of her words were swallowed by a moan as he dragged his cock along her folds and then pressed at her entrance._

_Afterwards they lay tangled together on the couch, her between his legs with her bare back against his chest. Emma’s attempts to feed them their now cold pasta were thwarted by his need to press kisses along each of the freckles spread across her shoulders._

Killian awoke with a start, sheets tangled around his legs, panting and rock hard.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the couch he missed.

*

Sunday found him sitting at the end of Liam’s bar, nursing a glass of bourbon and once again scrolling through David’s photo feed. A bowl of limes and a cutting board laid abandoned in front of him while he took in pictures of David and Mary Margaret at Central Park, the Met steps, and the reading room of the New York Public Library. Emma, however, flitted around the edges – often just an elbow of her red leather jacket, the grey blur of her favorite wool cap, or a stream of blond hair in the background. There was one, however, of her from behind as she leaned over the railing at Battery Park to stare out at the Harbor. He stopped himself from grabbing a screencap, pretty sure that saving photos of your ex-girlfriend’s ass was a bad idea.

There was also series of what looked to be shots of tequila lined up on the bars of several of the finer dives of the Lower East Side. As the night wore on and the sequence continued, the photos got progressively more out of focus, which was probably fitting parallel.

“Those limes aren’t going to cut themselves, little brother.”

Killian ignored the dig and continued to scroll, once again finding himself hovering over the initial picture of David and Emma on her couch. As it had the previous morning, his thumb drifted over the like button. “Last I checked, the Anchor didn’t cut me a paycheck.”

Liam chucked a bar rag at his head and Killian let it fall to the floor.

“Last I checked, you didn’t have any debt related to that poncy Ivy League law degree of yours either. So if lime wedges are your repayment, so be it.”

Killian scowled and tossed back the remains of his bourbon. “As you command,” he replied with a deep bow of his head.

Liam snorted. “What’s got your attention?”

“Nothing. Just dicking around on Instagram.”

“Uh huh. This has got nothing to do with David’s trip to New York then?”

Killian tried to school his face before looking over at him. “Of course not,” he replied. “Hand over the knife,” he continued with a gesture towards Liam.

Liam gave him a skeptical look before passing the knife but before he could question Killian further, a group of women came up to the other end of the bar and he left to take their order. Killian allowed himself one last glance at the photo. Not giving himself the chance to overthink it any further, he pressed the like button before shutting the app and pocketing his phone.

*

David returned with a sheepish smile and a thank you present in the form of a snow globe containing the New York Public Library in his hand.

“You could have said where you were going, mate,” Killian said as he stepped aside to allow him in.

“I know,” he replied as he hung up his jacket and toed off his boots.

Killian set the globe on his mantle and headed towards the kitchen. “And yet?”

David sank into the couch and accepted a beer from Killian when he returned from the kitchen. “You’re both unpredictable when it comes to the other,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t want to…”

Killian allowed him to trail off as they watched the start of the Bruins facing off against Pittsburgh. About fifteen minutes in David started up again and Killian was surprised he lasted that long. “She asked about you.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it, yet or at all still an open question, so he nodded instead and took a long pull of his bottle.

David got the message and minus some muttering at the ref, he remained quiet through to intermission. When Killian got up to get another round of beer, he started again. “You saw she was wearing your sweatshirt?”

Killian refused to glance back as he walked into the kitchen, wanting to keep any smile the question produced to himself. “Don’t be thick, you know I did,” he called instead. Returning with the beer, he passed one to David. “Do you really want to discuss this?”

Taking the offered beer, David replied, “Only if you do.”

Killian flopped onto the couch and was silent a moment. “If it is all the same to you, I’d prefer to focus on that abysmal attempt at a check from your boys and leave the emotional prodding to your fiancée.”

David laughed and proceeded into a full-throated attempt to defend the Penguin’s ridiculous play to re-take possession.

*

Most likely, given time, Killian would have let it go; would have chalked the sweatshirt-wearing up to having been another mystery in the puzzle that was Emma Nolan. He used to think, long ago, that he could read her pretty plainly, but she had shown how sorely he’d been mistaken. His kept his routine intact – he put in his hours at the firm, hung out with Belle and David, and helped Liam out at the bar where he could. But then Emma went and started liking his posts.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that she’d be looking at his stream. Having unfollowed her after she had moved away – after they had broken up, he reminded himself – he hadn’t thought to check if she had done the same. Her comments and likes had stopped, as silent there as she was in the rest of his life.

The first was a photo he took in his office, his desk awash in stacks of files, but centered among them was a bottle of Black Maple Hill 16-Year. He nearly cried when he opened the package, sent by a client as a thank you for a well-negotiated settlement. He almost hadn’t believed it was sitting there, hence the photo. Then, nearly as shocking, was her username on the photo’s list of likes. He almost couldn’t blame her. She had to be dying looking at the bottle. With the exception of Liam, she was most likely the only one who truly knew what a find it was.

Then three days later she liked another, a picture taken out his front window of three snow angels left by the kids in the flat downstairs disappearing beneath another layer of falling snow. It was such an ordinary photo. He wasn’t even sure why she liked it and it ate at him. It was still eating at him three days later while he sat at brunch with Belle, both working on their second Bloody Mary over plates of poached eggs.

“Maybe this is her way of mending fences?” she offered.

Killian picked up his glass and swirled the celery stalk around. “After fifteen months of silence?”

Belle shrugged, taking a sip of her own. “Do you miss her, Killian?”

He didn’t answer and he knew he didn’t have to. Instead he polished off the remains of his drink.

“Stop overthinking it and re-follow her, then.” Then gesturing at his plate with her fork, she said, “And eat your food before I help myself to it.”

*

It took the better part of the week, but Killian heeded Belle’s advice. When he saw the notification that she approved his follow request, the tiny skip in his heartbeat took him by surprise. In the week that followed, he had to physically restrain himself from scrolling back through her stream – not sure if he wanted to fill in the blanks of her months of silence. He ran more and assigned himself random tasks around the Anchor to fill the hours not spent in the office. He remained cautious about her current posts as well, refraining from commenting on anything and allotting himself a like per week.

As the weeks passed though, the world she built for herself in New York came into focus for him. She still seemed to prefer hiding from the camera, but there were photos of her cat, Buttercup, lazing about the apartment, a shot and snarky commentary about the ridiculous heels she wore for a ‘date’ with a skip, and plenty of views from various windows she found herself in front of around town. Those last were his favorites, though he wouldn’t deny that the shot of her calves in heels was appreciated.

“What are you doing?”

Killian shoved his phone in his pocket, but not before Liam got a look at a photo of Buttercup stretched out in a patch of sun filtering through Emma’s kitchen window.

“Ahh.”

Pushing up away from the bar, Killian grabbed a rag and began pulling down the gin bottles. “What do you mean, ‘ahh’?”

“That’s Emma’s cat, yes?”

Wiping down the bottle of Death’s Door with more force than was strictly necessary, he eyed the clock and wondered if noon was too early to start drinking.

“You two talking again?”

Killian poured himself a small glass and wiped down the shelf before placing the bottle back on it. “Not exactly.”

Liam peered at him with a raised eyebrow through the mirror that lined the back of the bar. Turning away, Killian focused his attention on the next bottle but could still feel Liam fidgeting beside to him. Feeling words of further explanation move to the tip of his tongue, he bit down on his lower lip, only letting out a sigh when they were interrupted by a knock on the bar door indicating the arrival of their beer delivery.

That night when he got home, after three too many shots of tequila with Belle, he scrolled through his phone to find a notification that Emma had commented on one of his photos. Opening the app, he found it was on one he posted the night before poking fun at the mountain of files threatening to overtake his desk.

‘ _Might be easier to just get a new desk, Jones._ ’

He grinned before shoving the phone under his bag and dropping his coat on top of the both of them for good measure. He stalked off to his bed before he could do something stupid like reply.

*

The following week, Emma began a series of posts on some of her favorite things. Killian was on his way into court, waiting in the security line, when he saw her photo for day two. It was of her feet up and crossed at the ankles on her coffee table, with her television on in the background playing what looked to be a video of a live Leonard Cohen performance.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he thought as he closed his eyes and breathed deep.

Her only comment on it was a link to YouTube, but he didn’t have to click through to know what song would play. As he passed through the metal detector, the melody crept into his head anyway and he felt a sway to his steps as he remembered afternoons spent dancing around his kitchen to the sweetly melancholic tune, the lyrics whispered against her temple.

_On a bed where the moon has been sweating_  
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand  
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay  
Take this waltz, take this waltz  
Take its broken waist in your hand 

“Fuck,” he repeated – out loud this time – as he gathered his briefcase and coat off the belt. His case wasn’t going to be nearly interesting enough to keep his attention off what to make of her posting it.

It was dark before he left court and found himself in the solitude of his office, feet propped on his desk and staring out the window at the city’s lights below. He couldn’t ignore the post, nor was a simple like appropriate either, and he was fairly certain Emma knew that. He thought of a number of responses, all of which bordered on too openly salacious, which he thought would make Mr. Cohen proud. However, he was more than aware of the number of prying eyes playing witness to their virtual interactions.

In the end, he settled on a quick one-liner – ‘ _And I'll dance with you in Vienna :)_ ’.

That night his dreams were plagued with images of her spread out on his bed, her hair pooled around her head, and his head between her thighs.

*

Emma didn’t reply to his comment and her next three favorites were more innocuous in their content. By the time Saturday rolled around, Killian began wondering if he had imaged her poking at him through the ether. So he planted himself in his usual corner barstool, nursing his second glass of bourbon and watched Liam flirt with a tiny blonde at the other end of the bar.  
Without meaning to, his focus turned back to the feed on his phone. He was beginning to feel he might need to acknowledge he was spending a disproportionate amount of his time scrolling through the damn thing of late. However, that thought fled when he found Emma had posted a new favorite. The photo this time was of her perched cross-legged on a yellow lounge chair, once again wearing his sweatshirt. It was framed, as always, to not include her face but there was a glimpse of her chin and her hair was swept over her left shoulder in a loose, messy braid. She captioned the photo:

‘ _My favorite sweatshirt – well-worn and loved._ ’

He tried not to notice the jut of her clavicle just above the fraying collar or the way the framing of the photo focused on the swell of her breasts. It was a fool’s errand if there ever was one.

It brought to mind another series of photos he had tucked away on a hard drive somewhere, with her splayed across that same chair in considerably less clothing. He smirked as he recalled a particular favorite of his own – her head pressed back and her left leg bent, allowing one hand to rest on her raised knee. Her other leg stretched out before her with her right hand running along her mound, fingers pressed into the folds around her clit just so. Killian shifted in his seat and tried to focus instead on the comment he should leave to her obvious bait.

‘ _Not sure it’s fair to call that ‘favourite’ yours, love._ ’

Her reply was immediate but came via text – ‘ _Possession is 9/10ths, is it not, Jones?_ ’

He bit his lower lip before picking up his glass and downing the remaining contents. Giving himself a moment to take a few breaths, he typed out his reply. ‘ _Are you suggesting I come divest you of it, Nolan?_ ’

His phone dinged to indicate another incoming message but before he could look down he was interrupted by a hand clasping his shoulder. He looked up to find David settling into the stool beside him.

“What’s that smile?” David asked as he unbuttoned his coat and unwound his scarf.

“Not sure you want to know,” Killian said with a shake of his head, pocketing his phone.

David gave a nod to Liam across the bar, who began pouring a beer. Turning his attention back to Killian, he frowned. “Emma’s texting you?”

“Sort of,” was Killian’s only response.

“Good. I've a favor to ask and that will make it easier.”

Killian cocked an eyebrow.

“Be my best man?”

Liam laughed as he dropped off the beer in front of David. “How’s that even a question? My brother’d murder you if you asked anyone else.”

Killian threw an arm around David’s shoulder as he scowled at Liam. “Make yourself useful, older brother, and pull down that scotch you’ve been hiding.” Turning back to David he asked, “How does my texting with Emma come into play?”

Liam choked on his beer. “You’re texting Emma?”

Killian waved his hand dismissively in Liam’s direction while keeping his attention on David.

“Well,” David started, “I was hoping she’d be my other attendant.”

*

It was 3 AM before he found himself home, drunker than he should have been but nowhere near as bad as David. It was only once flopped back onto his bed that he managed to fish out his phone from his pocket and saw Emma’s response to his retort.

‘ _I’d like to see you try._ ’

Killian bit back a groan as his mind flooded with a good dozen images of how best to try – mostly centered on fingers and lips teasing along skin. His thoughts were interrupted by another incoming message, this time from Liam.

‘ _Don’t think we’re done discussing the you and Emma texting thing._ ’

He groaned shoved his phone under the mound of pillows to his left in order to stop himself from typing out a reply to either of them. He knew exactly where both exchanges would lead and he wasn’t sure he was ready for them. He was too drunk and his emotions were too all over the place when it came to Emma.

Instead he pulled off his jeans and flannel shirt, pushing them to the floor with his foot. Settling under the layers of sheets and his thickest duvet, he brought a pillow over his head to shut out the glow of the street lights and hopefully all thoughts of Emma. The darkness, though, simply brought more images of her – her smile as he leaned in to whisper something dirty in her ear, her shoulders as set off by a black halter dress he was fond of, her sitting in his bed in rumpled pajamas and a messy bun with her glasses falling down her nose as she read through her case files, her fingers and mouth wrapped around his cock causing a shiver to run down his spine. Killian allowed his hand to snake down his chest and run along his cock. He felt it swell further as his fingers pressed along its thick vein and his thumb to brush across the head. He rolled his foreskin as he imaged Emma’s tongue following the same path and let out a soft moan.

He gripped himself and gave a few light strokes, letting his mind wander back to his thoughts earlier that evening of her posing for him. He remembered the way the soft light of the room played across her breasts, her coy smirk at Killian’s obvious surprise when she first pulled off her t-shirt after the first several photographs, and trying to tamp down the urge to drop the camera and replace her fingers with his own as he watched her sink them within herself. 

That last image in mind, it only took a few more strokes to bring himself over the edge, spilling across his hand and abdomen. Keeping his eyes closed a moment longer, he tried to recall the feel of Emma curled up next to him, head resting on his chest and breathing out a satisfied sigh.

Shaking his head, Killian got up and walked over to the bathroom to rinse himself off. He was going to have to pull himself together, especially if this was what a handful of comments and a single text exchange wrought. He needed to remember that nothing had changed; that while the idea of him and Emma was heady, he didn’t want to lose himself again in the pain of her inevitable withdrawal.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma appeared unfazed by his lack of reply on Saturday night, as Sunday afternoon, while he nursed his hangover with a pot of coffee, she sent him a photo via text. It was of a giant black dog that seemed to be bounding through a sizable snow drift in a park.

He wrote back immediately. ‘ _What kind of masochist keeps a Newfie in New York-sized flat?_ ’

She sent back a string of snowflake and paw print emoji that was capped with a smiling squid. He smiled and settled back into the ersatz blanket fort he’d built himself on his couch. 

And with that string of texts they established a new pattern of trading messages back and forth two or three times a week – quick updates, photos of interesting things they encountered, shared links, or a means for her to pass the time during the dull parts of stakeouts. Despite himself, he was enjoying the odd little digital bubble they built for themselves. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her dry sense of humor or her snark about what he could share of his current cases.

Liam tried bringing up the texting a couple of times, but Killian shot down his attempts to discuss it. However, Liam had him cornered one Sunday morning as they unpacked a fresh beer delivery together. He caught him checking his phone more than once, so Killian knew he only had himself to blame.

“We’re being friendly, Liam. Nothing more. Let it be.”

“No need for the tone, Killian, you know I like the lass,” he shot back. “But it has never been about being friends between you two.”

Killian was saved from replying by the sound of an incoming FaceTime. He nearly choked when he saw Emma’s smiling face on his screen. “Could I borrow your office?” he asked, not bothering to wait for Liam’s reply.

Swiping to accept the call, he smiled when she bit her lip and gave him a little wave. Fifteen months of silence and another couple months of tentative back and forth and this was the first he chance he’d had to see her face. A laugh nearly burst from him as he pushed Liam’s office door closed and gave himself a moment to take her in. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, a purple scarf was wound around her neck, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses on her face. She looked gorgeous, cold but gorgeous.

“Nolan, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m on what has got to be the world’s most boring stakeout, I’m nearly out of hot chocolate, and it is only 10 AM. I was desperate.”

Flopping back into Liam’s chair, he replied, “Way to tromp all over a man’s ego, love.”

“I think yours’ll survive.”

He watched her pulled on a lock of hair that had fallen loose at the back of her ponytail and twirled it around her gloved finger. He wished he could reach out and steady her hand, though he was grateful she appeared to be as nervous as he felt.

“Actually, I was hoping to ask a favor of you.”

“Aha!’ he crowed. “The truth comes out.”

When she replied with a small frown, he titled his head and gave her a tentative smile. “Ask away.”

“David mentioned you might be planning a bachelor party for him and I was wondering if I could help.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You want to plan a party? Are you sure this is Emma Nolan calling me?”

She flicked her fingers at the screen. “Cut it out. I’m serious.” After a pause, she continued, “He’s done so much, and this is a chance....”

Killian let her trail off. “Of course you can, Emma. I don’t think it’s going to be too difficult, Liam’s already agreed to let us use the Anchor for the night, but I’d welcome your help with the rest.”

The smile Emma gave him could have lit a stadium. “Thanks, Killian,” she whispered.

He smiled back. Seeing her fidget and unwilling to let her end the call end there, he leaned back into the chair and asked, “How much more time do you have out there?”

Emma shrugged. “Probably going to wrap up soon. It’s been a bust.”

“Did David tell you about the latest row between Mary Margaret and her stepmother?”

She shook her head and tilted her chin for him to continue.

“Well, settle in, love. This one takes some telling, as very little to do with Regina is as it seems.”

Emma grinned and took a sip of her cocoa while Killian propped his feet up on the desk. Once settled, he began telling her of the no less than three wedding dresses that had arrived at Mary Margaret’s door earlier that week.

*

Emma let him talk for more than an hour that morning, until she was too cold to continue sitting in her car and had had to cut things short. Killian wasn’t sure why it felt like a victory, but he reveled in it anyway. Actually, he knew exactly why it did but chose not to examine his feelings on the matter too closely.

They didn’t talk again in the weeks leading up to the bachelor party, but their texts picked up in frequency and they managed most of their planning between exchanging photos of Buttercup and Killian’s documentation of his experiments in cooking. He wasn’t lying when he had said it wasn’t going to take much to plan. They had a venue and David was a man of simple tastes. Some food, some music, plenty of alcohol and friends were all he requested and Killian and Emma were happy to comply.

By the time he let himself into the bar the afternoon of the party, he’d already gone for an eight mile run, changed his clothes twice, and avoided one phone call and two texts from Liam. He was pretty sure seeing Emma later was nerve-wracking enough without his ribbing thrown into the mix. However, taking in the sight before him as he stepped inside, he was coming to regret having not answered his brother.

The tables were all re-arranged, paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, and candles and jars filled with paperwhites were spread out through the room and the back shelves of the bar. Standing in the midst of the chaos was Ruby, who was deep in conversation on her cell phone. Killian sighed and grabbed a chair as he debated texting Emma in warning. Thinking better of it, he opted to wait for Ruby to finish her call.

“Do I want to know?” he asked once she hung up.

Turning with a small jump of surprise, she asked, “Didn’t Liam call you?”

He frowned. “Aye, but I’ve not had the chance to ring him back.”

Turning her focus to a bunch of flowers before her, she said, “We thought there was no sense in organizing two separate events.” She deposited the bunch she was working on into a jar and then shot him a broad smile. “You know we’d end up back here with you at the end of the night anyway. Besides, Liam said it was all right.”

“Did he now?” He raised an eyebrow at her. Then, shaking his head, he answered his own non-question. “Well, of course he agreed. He’s been looking for a means to get in your knickers for years.”

Ruby grinned and gave a small chuckle. “Who isn’t?” she winked. “Now make yourself useful and go string up that last set of lanterns in the back.”

Killian scoffed and turned his attention to the iPod they had installed behind the bar. After starting a playlist, he pulled the ladder towards the back of the room and eyed the lanterns laid out. Ruby followed him over and gathered a few in her hands. “You climb, I’ll pass them up.”

He nodded and made his way up the ladder, reaching down for the first lantern once he hit the top.

“So, you and Emma? You’re hitting that again?” Ruby asked as she passed it to him.

Killian shot her a glare as he took the lantern. “We aren’t, as you so elegantly put it, hitting it.” Tacking it to the ceiling, he asked, “Where’d you hear that anyway?”

Ruby snorted and ignored his question. “Why not? You’re gorgeous. She’s gorgeous. You’re both so obviously into one another that the sex has got to be fantastic. You’d be insane not to want back in on that.”

“Ruby,” he sighed and gestured for another lantern.

“Okay, okay. I’ll lay off,” she relented.

Killian took the lantern she offered and tacked it up. Once he was done, he made his way back down the ladder.

“But seriously, if you ever want a third –”

“Ruby!” he yelled, tossing a wad of tape at her.

She laughed and ran off to the other side of the room. Killian was about to follow in search of something else to toss at her when they were interrupted by Emma walking through the front door.

“Killian?’ she called as she pushed open the heavy front door. “Why’s there a caterer out here looking confused?” He watched her brow furrow as she took in the room. “What’s going on?”

He turned and raised an eyebrow. “Ruby?”

“That one you can blame on Regina,” she said with a smile and then offered a wave to Emma.

“Of course,” Emma dead panned as she dropped her bag next to the door. Killian shook his head in defeat.

“I’ll go –” Ruby tipped her head towards the door. As she crossed behind Emma, she looked her up and down and waggled her eyebrows at Killian.

Ignoring her, Killian took a moment to take Emma in as she crossed the room towards him. She was wearing a sheer black top and her tan leather coat with a pair of a dark blue jeans and tall black boots. Her hair was braided in a crown around the front of her head with strands falling out to frame her face. He reached out to pull her into a hug before he was really aware of what he was doing, and she let him pull her in easily enough.

“What happened to simple?” she whispered into his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Killian laughed. “Apparently we’ve been overruled. Good news is you’ve been freed from setup duties.” He squeezed her tight. “It’s good to see you in the flesh.”

She pulled back and smirked up at him.

“Not what I meant, and you know it. Mind out of the gutter, Nolan.”

“But I seem to remember you liking it in the gutter, Jones.”

“Emma,” he said with a note of warning in his voice as he took a step back.

“All right, all right,” she said, putting her hands up in the air and backing away with a smile. “I’ll play nice.”

Ruby chose that moment to return with a small legion of catering staff in tow. She eyed Killian as Emma asked, “Since we’re obviously not needed here, mind letting me into Liam’s place? He said I could crash there tonight.”

“Of course,’ he said with a bow and gestured towards the door that led to the upstairs before grabbing her bag. “Not staying with David and Mary Margaret?”

“Didn’t want to be in their way,” she replied as she walked towards the back.

Killian laughed. “You mean you want to protect your delicate sensibilities from whatever those two get up to once they leave the party.”

Emma laughed and turned to offer him a smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

They made their way up the stairs and Killian handed her his keys when they reached the landing at the top. “Guest room should be done up and waiting.” He put her bag next to the door. “So I’ll see you tonight?”

She smiled again tugged at his hand. “You’ll see me tonight.”

He took her hand and smiled back. “Good,” he said as he looked her in the eye and squeezed her hand tight. And before he could do something foolish like lean in and kiss her, he let go and made his way back downstairs.

*

Killian watched as David seemed to be enjoying himself despite the shift in the evening’s plans, if his wild gesticulating as he talked with Liam and Ruby in the center of the room were any indication. He smiled at the dopey grin that slid over his friend’s face when Mary Margaret sidled up him and wrapped her arm around David’s waist.

“They’re ridiculous, aren’t they?”

Killian felt Emma move up behind him as she spoke. She handed him a glass of what he suspected was his usual bourbon, which he gratefully accepted. “Aye.” He tipped his glass towards her before taking a sip. “And yet –”

“And yet,” she agreed.

Standing in silence, sipping their drinks, he took a moment to admire her dress. Slim and black with a high collar, it had an open back held in place by three small buttons at the back of her neck. The hem hit her mid-thigh, leaving nothing but the long expanse of her bare legs until you hit the ankle strap of her spindly heels. His hand itched to press along the exposed skin at the small of her back and he mentally scolded himself. He forced himself to look out at the crowd, focusing on a few of their friends from the firm pulling David to the portion of the room that had been co-opted as a makeshift dance floor.

After another sip, she said, “Thank you truly, Killian. I know this can’t have been easy, having me here. After everything.”

Killian shrugged and stared down at his glass, not sure what he should say or what he wanted to say. They continued drinking in silence for another minute before Killian gathered his words. When he finally looked up to respond it was to find her looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“He’s your brother, Em. I’d never deny you, no matter what was between us,” he said in barely above a whisper. “Though it’s good to be talking again.”

She nodded and clinked her glass against his. “It is,” she agreed. After a moment, something in her demeanor shifted and she smirked at him. “Have your duties as best man been completed for the evening?”

“I believe so,” he said with an answering grin. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

“Meet me over at that table,” she said, indicating to an empty table at the back of the room with her chin. “I just need to grab something.”

He made his way over and sank into one of the wooden chairs, watching as Emma went to talk with the bartender. A few minutes later, she made her way over to the table and placed a bottle of tequila and a couple shot glasses on the table before taking her own chair.

Killian stayed silent but raised an eyebrow at her.

“What? Not up to the challenge?” she teased.

He narrowed his eyes and continued to stare at her.

“Come on. Old times’ sake.” She opened the bottle and poured two shots as the bartender dropped off a plate of limes and a shaker of salt.

Killian grabbed the shaker and raised his arm to lick along his wrist. Once done, he picked up a lime and his glass. Tipping his head back, he downed his shot and sucked on the lime in quick succession.

Emma laughed and reached for the shaker. Lifting her own wrist to her mouth, she kept her eyes focused on Killian’s as she dragged her tongue along the pulse point and then spread the salt. Killian felt his breath stutter and then nearly falter completely once she raised her glass to her lips and drank.

They continued like that for two more rounds. As he watched her set down her glass for the third time, he heard the opening strains of _Never Let Me Down Again_ come over the bar’s speakers and he knew he was in trouble. He looked up in time to see the wicked grin that played across her lips as she began to move with the music. She remained in her chair but raised her arms over her head and swayed. Killian looked over her shoulder, relieved to find no one playing them any mind. He settled back into his chair and let his hand splay across his thigh.

He watched as Emma closed her eyes and let her body move along with the music. His hand twitched with the urge to settle along her waist and when her legs spread a bit, causing the hem of her dress to ride up along a dangerous expanse of her thigh, he had to bite his lip to contain the groan that threatened to spill out.

“Emma,” he warned.

She opened her eyes and leaned across the table, wagging her index finger to call him to meet her halfway. He obliged, because when had he not. She reached out and ran her hand along the vee of his shirt and the sensation of her fingers threading through his chest hair required him to put conscious thought into his breathing. Despite himself, he let his forehead lean against hers.

“Do you remember the night we first met?” she whispered.

He smiled at the memory and felt her breath tease along his lips. “I seem to recall Liam not speaking to me for days because of what we did to his desk.”

Emma gave a breathy laugh and wrapped her fingers around the chain on his neck. “Want to see if we can –”

“Did you two break out the shots without us?”

Emma released her hold on his necklace and Killian jumped back to find Liam grinning at him as he pulled a chair up to the table. He was followed by David, Ruby, Belle, and Mary Margaret. Ruby placed a stack of clean shot glasses on the table as she slid her chair next to Emma, who shot him a wry smile.

“What are we playing?” Ruby asked.

Killian opened his mouth to give a retort but was cut off by Mary Margaret. “I vote for I Never,” she shouted and slammed her hand on the table as if that decided things.

Killian raised an eyebrow in challenge at Mary Margaret, who nodded her chin firmly. He then picked up the bottle and filled the shot glasses. “Ok, bride to be, let’s see how prepared you are for that wedding night of yours.”

*

He vaguely recalled making his way upstairs with Liam and Emma flanked behind him. Once Liam mumbled good night, Killian somehow managed to curl up on Liam’s couch, pulling the afghan that was thrown over the back over himself. Emma settled herself on the other end of the couch and put his feet in her lap, setting herself to the task of unlacing his boots. He watched her for a few moments through drooping eyelids, admiring the way her face was framed by the large number of strands of hair that had fallen loose from her braid.

When she was done tugging his boots to the floor, she settled herself to lay between him and the back of the couch, resting her head on his shoulder with one hand over his chest. Killian let his hand settle on the curve of her hip and his fingers played along the seam of her dress. Eventually, he curled his other hand over where hers laid on his chest.

“Emma?” he whispered, not sure if she had fallen asleep.

“Yes?” she whispered back.

“Why did you leave?”

He felt more than heard her breathe out and he gripped her hand tighter.

“That’s a conversation for when we both haven’t consumed a half a bottle of tequila each.”

“I know,” he replied. “It’s just… I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Killian.” She placed a kiss to his chest and settled further into him. He adjusted himself so that his arm wasn’t entirely pinned and placed a kiss on top of her head.

“Tomorrow, then.”

She nodded against him. “Tomorrow.”

*

Sunday morning greeted Killian with a massive headache, a stupid amount of sunlight pouring into Liam’s living room, and lack of Emma curled up next to him. Killian sat up and ran his hands over his face and into his hair.

“She left a couple of hours ago.” 

Killian tugged a few strands of his hair hoping to distract himself his growing headache. When that didn’t work, he turned to squint in the direction of Liam’s voice, finding him leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, extending a mug of coffee towards him.

Liam walked over and put the mug on the coffee table in front of Killian. “She left you this,” he said, handing him a piece of paper. “I’m going to shower. You joining us for brunch?”

Killian took the note, scribbled on simple notebook paper, and nodded. Once Liam padded off down the hall, he flipped it open.

_K-_

_I’m so, so sorry to do this. I got a hit on a trace I’ve been running for weeks. I wouldn’t leave, but catching him would cover three months’ rent and then some._

_I meant what I said last night. Call me later?_

_Hug David for me and give my love to everyone else at brunch._

_Yours if you can forgive me,  
E_

He sighed as he traced his finger over her hastily scribbled E and got up in search of whatever clothes he might have stashed in Liam’s guest closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to post Part 3 this weekend. One scene left to complete and editing from there. Hoping time gods cooperate with holiday plans and travel in the mix.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the encouragement and feedback along the way. It is so beyond appreciated and I’d like to hug each of you. Hopefully you enjoy this last part.

He knew he should call her. She had reached out to him Sunday night, but he hadn’t heard the ring above the din of the bar. When she called again on Monday, he’d purposely not answered the call. It was now Thursday and he knew he shouldn’t be so stubborn. And yet, he was sitting in his office far past the time he should have left, staring at case files that didn’t need to be worked on, clearly avoiding things. He was about to pick up another file when his phone signaled an incoming text.

Opening the message, he found a photo of Emma with what he assumed to be the same Newfie she’d sent him a photo of a few weeks past. Only this time he was up close and licking Emma square on the face. A second message followed.

‘ _Take pity on a girl, Jones._ ’

Killian smiled at the ridiculous expression – a cross between disgust and laughter – on her face.

‘ _You sure I shouldn’t pity the dog? What have you done to the poor thing?’_

_‘I’m being nice. I swear!’_

_‘I’ve seen you with dogs.’_

_‘This one’s different. She gets me._ ’ Another photo followed, this time with the dog’s head on Emma’s lap while she pet its head. ‘ _See?_ ’

Killian smiled again and felt a spike of jealously flare at the dog. A few moments later he was jolted out of his staring by the phone ringing. He picked up on the third one.

“Hey.”

“Hi there,” she replied softly. “I’m really sorry about Sunday.”

He took a breath before replying. “I know.”

“I know I owe you a conversation, but is there any chance of us moving past the myriad of ways I’ve fucked up?”

Killian ran a hand though his hair. “It depends, Emma.”

“On what?”

He paused to sort through his thoughts and the any number of answers he could give to that question. He settled on, “On why you left the last time. On what you want now.”

Her reply was quick and he was surprised by her directness. “I’ve no good excuse.”

“You left Boston, Emma.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I know. I got scared. I was lying there in your bed. You weren’t even home, but there I was in your apartment. And I was happy and I felt like I was home.” She took a shuttering breath. “I hadn’t felt like that since….”

He heard the strain in her voice as she trailed off and knew she was on the verge of tears. He stayed silent and let her catch herself.

“I panicked. August had offered me the job in New York earlier that week and suddenly taking it seemed like the best idea in the world.”

“You could have told me.” Killian took his own deep breath. “You could have trusted me, Em. But suddenly you were just gone and I had to hear it from David.”

He heard her take another shaky breath through the phone. “I know,” she replied after a few more beats. “He ripped into me when he found that out.”

“Aye.”

“Which was no less than I deserved.”

“Aye,” he repeated and moved to lay down on his office couch. “So that leaves the question – what you want from me now,” he said as he laid back and rested his feet on the armrest.

Her reply was immediate and unwavering. “I miss you, Killian. I miss who I was when I was with you. Who we were. I’d like the chance to make it all up to you.”

Killian hummed and closed his eyes, hoping the momentary darkness would help him process all that she had just said.

“Is it wrong to say I miss the sex too?”

Killian laughed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He could imagine the smile that had to be warring at the corners of her lips. “Probably.”

“It got you to laugh, though.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a smile.

They were silent again for a few minutes. Killian simply listening to the sound of her breath as he felt himself relax.

“Do you have a date for the wedding?” she asked.

He jumped at the abrupt change in topic. “Pardon?”

“I just thought that, perhaps, if you didn’t, you might let me be your date.”

He wished, suddenly, that he could see her but he didn’t want to interrupt to switch to FaceTime. “Well, Belle had agreed to go with me.”

“Oh, well, never mind,” she cut in.

“You didn’t let me finish, love.”

“Oh.”

“Belle was going to be my date, but she’s gone and got herself a proper boyfriend, so asked to ditch me in favor of bringing him with her.”

“ _Oh.”_

 _“Oh_ , indeed.”

“So is that your way of saying you’d go with me?” 

Killian imaged he could see her twisting her hair around a finger. “I don’t know. Is that your way of asking me?” he teased.

“Jones,” she whined.

He gave a smile towards his office ceiling. “Yes, Nolan, I’d be happy to be your date.”

“Good.”

He could hear her smile through the phone and felt his broaden in response.

“I should go,” she continued. “I’ll see you in little over a week then?”

“We’ll talk before then,” he said firmly.

“We will?”

“Of course. You won’t be able to resist sending me photos all week and you know it.”

“I’m hanging up,” she said with a huff. He grinned and killed the line before she got the chance.

‘ _Ass_ ,’ was the text that greeted him seconds later.

*

Sunday started far too early for Killian’s liking and had been full of final suit fittings, driving Mary Margaret all over the greater Boston area on a seemingly endless list of last minute errands, and arguing with their distributor over the wine order for the wedding. Finally home, Killian sank into his couch with a beer and was toying with the idea of never moving again, all of which meant he shouldn’t have been surprised at the buzz of his doorbell minutes later.

He shuffled over to the call box, and assuming it was David buzzed him in without a thought. So when he opened the door to find Emma fighting with a crumpled umbrella as she made her way up the stairs, he blinked and nearly shut the door believing his exhaustion got the better of him. But then she was standing before him, umbrella forgotten, with the start of a smile curving the corner of her lips.

“Emma?” He blinked again. “What are you –?”

“It’s only a four hour drive,” she said with a shrug.

He laughed and pulled her into a hug. “Only?” he said against the top of her head before taking in a deep breath to revel in the scent of her familiar shampoo. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged back.

“Thought it would be awkward if the next time I saw you was the rehearsal dinner. Far too many people.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

“You going to invite me in?” she mumbled against his chest.

Killian pulled back and grabbed her hand, tugging her towards the living room. “I was about to order pizza. You hungry?”

“Starving,” she said as she pushed the front door closed behind them.

Killian fished his phone from the pocket of the jacket he threw on one of the chairs earlier. “Extra pepperoni and cheese?”

Settling on the couch and stealing his beer, she replied, “Of course.”

Once the pizza had arrived, they argued over which movie to watch, eventually settling on Lost Boys mid-way through their second slice. Emma curled up against his side when they were done and pulled his arm over her shoulder. Somewhere around the first scene in the comic book shop Killian’s attention wavered as Emma’s hand teased along the hem of his t-shirt, moving it aside to trace the line of skin above his belt. His breath faltered and he tried to keep his eyes forward, but failed when her lips grazed along the underside of his jaw. He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan, before turning to capture her lips with his own. She felt perfect, exactly as he remembered. Her lips were soft but the press of them insistent and he tilted his head to open up to her as he moved a hand to pull one of her legs across his lap to bring her closer to him.

He continued to run his hand along her thigh as they traded kisses, breaking only to catch their breaths or move to kiss along whatever exposed skin they could find along their necks and shoulders. Killian sighed in contentment before threading a hand through her hair and pulling her mouth back to his, sliding his tongue against hers. The feel of it warm and wet against his own was sending sparks down his spine and he hummed at how delicious it felt. Emma pulled back a fraction of an inch before groaning and coming back in to bite at his lower lip. Killian smiled against her lips and tightened his grip in her hair in response. But when she moved to settle more fully in his lap he pulled back, moving his hand from her thigh to her hip to stay the movement. She pulled back and gave him a questioning look.

“Emma,” he sighed, mostly to himself.

“I thought you –,” she started.

“I want you. Believe me. But this?” He gestured between them. “This has never been our problem, Emma.”

“I know,” she whispered and slumped back to lean her head against the back of the couch. “Do you want me to go?”

He shook his head but then realized she couldn’t see him. “No,” he whispered. “I want you to stay. I want us to talk. I want you in my bed. I want to see where this can go, but I don’t want us to do it all in one night.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Okay,” she whispered back before grabbing a blanket from the corner of the couch and pulling it over them. Killian adjusted himself to pull his legs up on the couch and allowed Emma to settle between them, her back flush with his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as she switched to another movie and watched as she fell asleep like that thirty minutes into The Apartment. Prying the remote from her hand and turning off the TV, he nudged her so they could move this his bed. He tucked her in and joined her once he had a chance to clean up behind them.

When he woke the next morning, it was to a mouth full of Emma’s hair and her still curled against his side. Pushing some of her hair back he let his hand wrap around her shoulder, his fingers teasing at the strap of her tank top.

“S’too early,” she mumbled.

Killian shifted her so she could face him, bringing his other hand up to trace along and then tilt up her chin. He leaned in and brushed his lips along hers in a brief touch. “I’ve got to go to work,” he whispered.

Emma groaned and burrowed further into his side. He kissed her head again before slipping out of bed and tucking the sheets around her. “Stay as long as you like. I’ve a long day, but call me when you get home tonight?” He took her answering murmur as an affirmative and made his way to the shower.

*

Wednesday found Killian at the office, scrambling to complete work before taking off to drive David down to New York for the wedding. He was pulling files and writing notes for his assistant when his phone signaled an incoming text. He smiled when he saw it was from Emma.

‘ _I think we can call this a success.’_

 _‘What’s that, love?_ ’

Her response came in the form of a photo of her in what looked to be a dressing room, wearing a tailored black suit. The jacket clung to her waist and was held closed by a single button just below her breasts. Underneath it she wore what looked to be a white silk shirt with the first few buttons left undone. The pants were slim cut with a silk tuxedo stripe down each leg, ending just at her ankle and topped off with a pair of robin’s egg blue heels.

He glanced at the clock and found he had ten minutes until he was supposed to leave. He fired off a reply anyway.

‘ _Fuck. That’s hot. That for the wedding?’_

_‘Yup.’_

_‘I’m supposed to stand next to you while you wear that and not maul you?’_

_‘If you like that, you really should see what’s underneath._ ’

Killian bit his lip and before he could reply, another text came through with a photo of her wearing only the silk shirt. It had just one button clasped, the one at her breast bone, and he could make out what looked to be the lace of her bra where it followed the swell of her breasts. The shirt’s tails hit the top of her thigh, barely covering her ass.

‘ _Fuck, that’s unfair.’_

_‘How’s that?’_

_‘I’m supposed to be leaving to get your brother in ten minutes. Don’t have nearly enough time to talk you through peeling the rest of that off for me.’_

_‘You sure?_ ’ she replied along with another photo. This one with the shirt now fully opened and her leaning back again the dressing room mirror, the camera’s focus pushed in on her breasts where she had one hand running along the valley between them. Her bra was sheer white lace and her nipples were deep red and straining against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. ‘ _Do you know what you’re doing to me?’_

 _‘What am I doing?_ ’ Killian imaged the smirk that had to be accompanying that message.

‘ _I’m sitting here in my office, rock hard and wanting to turn and push you against that mirror. I want your hands splayed against it as you watch me spread your legs apart and press into you. I want one hand on your mouth to muffle your scream when I touch your clit.’_

 _‘Hmmm. You always did like me loud._ ’

He bit his lip. ‘ _Instead I’m going to need to find something to do about this erection so that I can face my assistant and not get fired for what I’m pretty sure is inappropriate office behaviour.’_

_‘Show me.’_

_‘Not helping, Nolan.’_

_‘Wasn’t trying to help. Was trying for a shot of your dick._ ’ That was accompanied by another photo. This one of her hand slipped beneath her matching underwear, the fabric doing nothing to hide where her fingers pressed at her clit.

Killian groaned and ran his palm along his length hoping to alleviate some of the tension. Shaking his head, he brought up a new email on his computer and fired off a message to David to let him know he’d be running late.

*

Weddings involved entirely too many steps as far as Killian was concerned. He was not entirely sure how David and Mary Margaret managed to stomach it all. Standing at the bar after the rehearsal, he was exhausted and he’d had only a quarter of the responsibilities Ruby seemed to be swamped with. Thankful his part was done for the night, he leaned against the bar to watch Emma as she and David spoke with an older woman he didn’t recognize. 

Belle slid beside him and swiped his drink from his hand. “You and Emma seemed cozy during the rehearsal.”

“Working on it,” he replied with a small smile.

Belle nudged him with her shoulder. “She’s worth it, Killian.”

“I know.” Then having a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “You don’t think I’m being rash forgiving her so easily?”

She shook her head. “I don’t. I know she hurt you and badly. But you two fit in a way that’s rare, that’s worth figuring out a way past it.”

Killian wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. She turned and kissed his cheek before offering him his drink back. He shook his head. “I think I’ve got to see a woman about a dance.” Belle laughed and polished off his drink as he pushed himself up off the bar. 

Making his way to David and Emma, he grabbed Emma’s hand. “Can I interest you in a dance, milady?”

Emma gave him a pointed look at the title, but let him pull her towards the dancefloor. When they hit the edge, he tugged her to him and wrapped an arm around her waist. She responded by placing an arm on his shoulder as he led her in a slow waltz. After a few turns he pulled back a touch to look at her. “Answer me something?” he asked.

“Anything,” she replied, threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Why now?”

He felt her take a deep breath for a few counts before she responded. “I knew within days of getting to New York that I messed up. You were all I could think about, but I didn’t know how to undo what I did. I’ve never run back to something before.”

He adjusted his hand on her waist, fingers tightening a bit to encourage her to continue.

“Then months kept passing and I tried to ignore it. Figured I would get over it. But then when David was in town, he said something like ‘you know, you can just come home’ and it just clicked. It’s stupid, I know, but it suddenly felt so simple.” Her gaze flickered down and she gave a small shrug before returning to look directly at him. “I just needed to find a way to reach you. And hope that you’d let me.”

Killian pulled her closer and whispered her name against her temple. Then removing his hand from hers, he tipped her chin up to kiss her. It was brief and light, more a wisp of one than anything. When it was done he reached into his pocket and palmed his room key. 

“Emma,” he repeated, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’m going to hand you my key and step away to make my goodnights. When you are ready, I’d love if you joined me – the number’s 1018.” 

He slipped his hand back over hers to leave the key in her palm, and turned to find David before he lost his nerve.

*

Killian was still waiting for the elevator when Emma ran up behind him, placing her hands on his hips as it arrived and shoving him through the doors before they had the chance to open fully. Once inside, she tugged to get him to turn around and pushed him against the back wall while he let one hand curl around her waist as he reached to press the button for his floor with the other. Smiling against her lips, he felt her fingers dig into the knot of his tie, pulling it loose. She was moving towards the top button of his shirt before he had a chance to catch her wandering hand in his own.

“In a hurry, love?”

Her answer came in the form of a bite to his lower lip followed by a sweep of her tongue in its wake. He opened to her, curling his tongue with hers, enjoying the heat and the faint taste of champagne. His only awareness of the elevator arriving at their destination was the feel of Emma’s hands back on his hips, pulling him out into the hall. He broke their kiss and spun her around, guiding her down the hall in the same way she had pushed him into the elevator. When they arrived at his door, he let her work to open the door as he focused on kissing at a patch of skin at the base of her neck just above the clavicle. She fumbled the key twice.

“I swear to all that is holy, Nolan, if you don’t get this door open, I won’t be held responsible for taking you up against it.”

He heard the snick of the lock and felt a laugh bubble up from her throat. They stumbled into his room, legs tangling in their haste. Emma somehow managed to turn to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. He backed her into the room still intent on returning her kiss, only pulling away when he felt her bump into the mattress. She sank down and reached up to finish removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. 

Once she finished and tugged the ends from the waist of his slacks, he stepped back and shrugged out of the shirt. He then reached for her hand and pulled her up from the bed. He took her spot and gestured for her to stand before him. “I want to watch you take off that pretty frock.”

The smile that spread across her lips was nothing short of sinful as she reached to find the zipper at the back of her dress. As she opened it, Killian undid his belt and opened the fly, letting his cock push out from between the fabric. 

She quirked an eyebrow at his lack of briefs, but he ignored it in favor of watching the flutter of her dress as it pooled at her feet. She was left standing before him in a deep blue satin bra and matching underwear. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered, gripping his cock as he watched her reach back to unhook her bra. As she let it slip from her shoulders, he drifted his hand down his length, tightening his grip when she ran her fingers down the sides of her breasts, her thumbs grazing over her hardened nipples. Her fingers joined her thumbs, circling the buds and pinching until she elicited a soft moan. He continued his lazy strokes as her hands moved down her stomach and came to rest in the waistband of her underwear. She tugged them over her hips, sliding them down her legs and joining her dress. 

Killian reached out to settle his hands on her waist, letting his thumbs rub along her sides. He pulled her between his legs and ran a kiss along her belly, his tongue swirling around her belly button. She laughed and tried to pull out from his grasp. He smiled as he stood up, nudging her towards the bed. 

“Up on the bed, love. I want you to show me what I do to you.”

Emma arched an eyebrow but complied, crawling up towards the headboard and settling against it. She stretched her legs before her, allowing one to bend and fall open, giving him a view of her glistening pink skin and folds. 

Killian groaned and moved his hand back to his cock, circling the head and capturing some pre-come on his thumb. “Go on,” he urged her as he used his other hand to fish a condom out of his pocket. Once he tossed it on the bed, he push his pants down off his hips, stepping out of them and joining her on the bed.

Emma inched her fingers down into her folds, spreading them and then holding herself open to his view. Killian’s breath caught and he fisted himself tighter as he settled on his knees before her. “Fuck, Emma. You make me want to come all over that pretty, pink skin.” 

She shook her head and smirked at him. “Another night.”

She then brought her other hand up to brush along her inner thigh before dragging her fingers up to tease along her entrance. She slipped one inside once, twice, and a third time before pulling it out completely and reaching up to run it along his bottom lip. Killian groaned and captured the finger in his mouth, sucking hard and wrapping his tongue around it.

Emma moaned and moved to curl her hand around the one he had fisting his cock. “Tonight I want you to fuck me. It’s been too long and I’ve missed the feel of you inside of me.”

Releasing her finger, Killian closed his eyes and stilled his hand. He took a few steadying breaths as her words alone – never mind the feel of her fingers on his cock – nearly pushed him over the edge. He pulled back and reached for the condom, using his teeth to open the package. He rolled it down his length and once secure, he wrapped an arm around her leg and brought her ankle up to rest on his shoulder. Positioning himself with his other hand, he pressed at her entrance letting the head settle just inside. He gave a few shallow thrusts, reveling in the feel of her body gripping him and pulling him in. 

Emma keened and reached back to grab the headboard. “Stop teasing,” she bit out. 

Killian laughed before thrusting shallowly once again. “Patience, love.” He followed his words with a long, deep thrust that seated him fully inside her. The moan she gave in response had him once again scrabbling for some semblance of self-control. Not wanting to come before her, he reached down with his free hand to find her clit. The swollen bud rolled under his fingers as he moved in a circling gesture. He felt her clench around him and he continued to play along her clit in time with his thrusts. 

When she whimpered his name and moved one hand to grip his thigh, he knew she was close. He brought his thumb up to meet his fingers, pinching her clit between them. Her answering moan was nearly a shout and her core quivered around his cock, pulling him with her over the edge, her name on his lips in a near silent plea.

*

They lay together afterwards, Emma curled with him with her back tucked up against his chest. Killian leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder and asked, “Do you have to go?”

Emma shook her head. “I may have left my things for tomorrow with Ruby earlier today.”

Killian smiled into her hair, pulling her tighter to him. “You were feeling pretty confident about getting lucky, huh?” He moved his hand to settle on her breast, his fingers brushing along the curve of its side.

“Not at all,” she answered quietly. “Just didn’t want to regret having to leave early if you did make an offer.”

He rolled her nipple between his thumb and middle finger. Emma hummed and pressed her chest further into his hand in response. Killian pinched harder and rolled himself against her ass. 

“You keep that up and neither of us is getting any sleep tonight.”

He nudged his knee between her thighs and reached to pull her top leg back over his. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, love.”

*

The red glow of the hotel alarm clock told him it was three AM when he woke next, Emma still tucked against him. Killian tightened the arm he had wrapped around her waist, reveling in the press of her skin to his chest. He slid his knees up behind hers to bring her closer and drifted back to sleep.

When he woke again, he could make out the morning sunlight peaking between the curtains. Emma was gone, but he wasn’t surprised; she’d been due to meet Mary Margaret and Ruby early. He rolled over and found a room service tray containing a carafe of what he hoped was coffee at the end of the bed. He smiled to himself and pushed back the sheets in order to get ready to meet David.

*

The next time Killian saw her she was making her way down the aisle to join him in the wait for David. She cut a striking figure in her suit and a brief flash of her hand running over white lace came to him unbidden. When she took her place next to him, he leaned in to whisper against her ear, his lips grazing along its shell as he did. “You look gorgeous, Nolan. Those photos didn’t do this outfit justice.”

She hummed but kept her focus towards the end of the aisle. “Are you trying to get a look down my shirt?”

Killian grinned and let his hand brush against the curve of her ass. “We’re in a church, love. For your brother’s wedding no less. Do you think me that depraved?”

Emma’s response was a soft, knowing laugh. 

After a few moments she gave a soft sigh and not turning her head, she asked, “How do we do this?”

“What, marry off your brother? I’m pretty sure short of handing over the rings, he and the priest are doing most of the heavy lifting today.”

“Not what I meant,” she said with a shove of her shoulder against his.

He reached over to wrap the pinky of his left hand around her right one. “One day at a time, Emma.”

When Emma squeezed his pinky as she turned to greet David, who was crossing the altar to them, with a smile, Killian’s heart soared.


End file.
